Remember Me - Lesley Pearse [87]
‘So where are you going to get it?’ he said wearily.
‘Captain Smith,’ she said.
Will was so surprised he nearly fell off his stool. Captain Detmer Smith, a Dutchman, had only been here a few days. He was the owner of a snow, the Waaksamheyd, that Captain Ball of the Supply had chartered while in Batavia. Smith had sailed in on 17 December with provisions for the colony, after an appalling voyage in which sixteen of his Malay crew had died of fever.
There was some sort of wangle with regard to the provisions going on between Captain Phillip and Smith, and it appeared that none of the officers in the colony liked the Dutchman. Will did, however. Smith had none of the stuffiness of the English captains, he was warm, open and friendly.
‘Are you mad?’ Will asked Mary.
‘No, just devious,’ Mary replied. ‘Detmer likes you and me. And I shall make sure he likes us even more before I talk him into parting with charts and a sextant.’
‘He’ll never do that,’ Will scoffed.
‘Why not?’ Mary retorted. ‘He’s being treated shabbily by all the officers, he’s lonely and far from home. He’s not English, so why should he mind helping a couple of English convicts escape?’
Will always slapped Mary’s ideas down as a matter of principle. Women weren’t supposed to be the clever ones. Yet deep down he knew her mind was sharper than his. She’d once asked him to teach her to read and write, and he said he couldn’t, not without books. She never asked him again, and somehow he knew that was because she’d seen through him. He didn’t want a wife who could read and write. It would diminish him.
But then Mary could see through most people. She watched and listened, she took in things Will would never notice. She might even be right about Detmer Smith.
Will made love to Mary that night, and took great care to please her, for he really wanted her to forget about escape. His sentence would be up in March, and though he often told other men he would be on the first ship home, that wasn’t what he wanted at all.
He only got nostalgic for Cornwall when he was drinking. He would remember the good parts, the soft climate, the moors and the woodland, the laughter in the tavern, the camaraderie among the fishermen.
But sober, he remembered it wasn’t quite like that. Without a fishing boat of your own, you were dependent on the man who had one, hauling nets all night in freezing conditions for a shilling or so. He’d been hungry there too, and no place looked pretty to a man with an empty belly.
At least it was warm here, even in the winter. He might have got cold and wet many times when the weather was bad, but it wasn’t the kind of cold that got right into your bones so it almost paralysed you.
It was said that men would be offered free land here when their time was up. Land was of no use to him, what he wanted was his own fishing business. If he could sell his catches to the store he’d soon be a rich man. Then he could build a fine house for Mary and the children. In time, Emmanuel would come into the business with him.
‘Was that good?’ Will whispered when he’d done. He was soaked with sweat, so hot that it was almost torture to hold Mary’s equally hot body in his arms.
‘Wonderful,’ she murmured against his chest. ‘But it’s too hot. Let’s run down to the water for a dip!’
She didn’t even wait for him to agree, but wriggled out of his arms, took his hand and pulled him out of bed. Then with a little giggle she ran out of the hut and down to the water.
Will smiled. One of the things he liked best about Mary was her spontaneity. She got an idea and she wanted to put it into action right away, not think about it first. Maybe that was what had got her into trouble in the first place, but he wouldn’t change that part of her.
She was passionate too, something he had never expected of her, for she looked so chaste and shy. She was always eager for love-making, responding quickly to just a kiss or a cuddle. Time after time she’d taken his mind right off hunger with her sensual touches, the way she wanted to please him.